


A Man In A Mask

by orphan_account



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, The Lone Ranger (2013)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Timmy does a lot of crying, and a hopeful view on how police officers were (and should be) treated, and inaccurate portrayals of how the old west would have treated gay people, but it’s like freaking 7 years old if you don’t know what happens yet sorry but that’s on you, eat the rich, on that note, spoilers for the Lone Ranger movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21619843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Armie and Timothée live in bliss in post-Civil War rural Texas. Outlaws are abundant, and one certain one has a vendetta against every Texas Ranger. With the help of a very confusing Comanche, a good man must wear a mask and rescue the love of his life.oneshot in the lone ranger universe
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	A Man In A Mask

“Mr. Timothée! Mr. Timothée!” 

“Why, hello, children!” Timothée exclaimed. He hugged the little children that ran up to him, and he accepted a small bluebonnet that Charlotte offered him. “This is lovely, Charlotte. From your mother’s garden?”

“Yeah,” Charlotte said with a smile. 

“I’ll have to get a vase and some water for it,” Timothée said. “Everyone, inside! We’re gonna learn a few more letters today!” 

The children raced into the schoolhouse, and Timothée smiled at them. When he arrived in Colby, Texas, the children were eager to learn, and the young eagerness grew each day. Men were typically not schoolteachers and it caused a stir in the small town when Timothée first arrived, but the town now knew that he was a smart man that wanted the best for the children. Women were after him all the time and Timothée always gave the excuse that the children kept him plenty busy, but that was exactly what it was: an excuse. He paid no mind to the fact that he would rather spend his life with another gentleman; men didn’t think like that, especially in Colby, Texas. All men, except one, one that Timothée was not afraid to call his own. 

Timothée entered the schoolhouse and smiled at the children, quivering with excitement. They all had a slate and piece of chalk in their hand, and Timothée grasped his own chalk. “Today, we’re going to learn my favorite letter,” Timothée said and wrote a careful and neat T in large script on his wall-mounted slate. “T! Now, T makes a ‘tuh’ sound. Everyone, say that. ‘Tuh’.” 

A chorus of “Tuh” flowed to him, and Timothée nodded emphatically. “Yes, just like that!” He said. “Can anyone tell me a word that starts with the letter T?” 

“Texas!” Little Charlotte said. 

Timothée wrote Texas on the board under the letter, and he asked, “Anything else?” 

A quiet knock sounded at the doorway to the schoolhouse, and Timothée looked to see a man that took up most of the space in his brain: Texas Ranger Armie Hammer. Timothée and Armie had struck up a bit of a courtship following an event with a leaking roof, and Timothée was always thrilled to see Armie. They spent nights together often, and, on beautiful days like this, Armie would bring a sandwich and a cold bottle of lemonade to Timothée for lunch. The children were increasingly falling in love with the Ranger, demanding for him to pick them up and play with them; they were delighted to find that the big Ranger could carry many of them at once. They all seemed to understand their teacher’s relationship with the Ranger, but they only saw Armie as another pseudo-teacher that always talked about grown-up things like ‘laws’ and ‘what should be for supper’. 

“I got one,” Armie proclaimed. “Timothée.” 

“That’s right, Ranger Armie,” Timothée said and wrote his own name on the board. “My own name starts with a T.” 

Armie took off his blinding white hat as he entered the schoolhouse, ducking to get through the doorway. He had a bouquet of wildflowers wound together with a silk ribbon, and the children made small teasing noises at the couple as Armie gave them to his lover. “And to what do I owe this visit?” Timothée asked, admiring the yellow and black flowers. 

“Vik has a shift at the station,” Armie said. “I was on my way to the border for my shift of patrol, and I saw those flowers and thought ‘bout you. I figured I’d bring ‘em by now instead’a lettin’ them die.” 

“How thoughtful of you,” Timothée said with a blush rising in his cheeks. “Run along now, I got some bright young minds to teach.” 

“I can’t do that, darlin’,” Armie said gently. “See, my old pal Butch is comin’ through town later, and I thought I’d come by and… Help you get ready.” 

Timothée nodded quickly in understanding. “Children, gather your things,” he said quickly. “The weather’s just too beautiful to be inside today! Go on home and help your mamas today, and we’ll start again tomorrow.” 

The children all began to pack up their readers and slates, and Timothée bid each child goodbye with a kiss on the cheek and a hug. Once the schoolhouse had only Armie and Timothée in it, Timothée let his anxiety out. “Oh my God, Armie,” Timothée mumbled. “Butch? That damn… He escaped, then? I know you said he was caught in Oklahoma.” 

“He escaped the train,” Armie nodded slowly. “And… He might be comin’ here. I need ya to get home and be safe. Me and a few other Rangers are gonna patrol nights to keep the town safe, but ya know that I had to come to you first.” 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Timothée whispered. “Oh, God, Armie, now I’m scared. What if you don’t—“

“Don’t even say that,” Armie said quickly. “I will.” 

“I can’t—“

“I know, darling,” Armie whispered. Timothée’s bottom lip was pouted out as he held back his tears, and Armie firmly embraced him. Timothée hugged back with a crushing tightness and buried his face in Armie’s chest, and he heaved a sob. 

“You better come home to me,” Timothée whispered. “You have to.” 

“I will,” Armie whispered, caressing Timothée’s hair. “I promise I will.” 

Timothée pulled out of the tight embrace and sniffled, and he looked at the flowers in his arms. “They really are beautiful,” he said tearily. “Are you coming home soon?” 

“I’ll be back for supper,” Armie said. “I have patrol this afternoon and tomorrow night.” 

Timothée nodded. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll be waiting up for you.” 

“Don’t do that,” Armie groaned. “Darlin’, you need your sleep.” 

Timothée moved to collect his things and pushed his hair behind his ears. “And you do too, but that doesn’t seem to happen,” he began. “You sleep when I don’t, and you don’t when I do. One night won’t hurt me.” 

“Timothée—“

“Armie,” Timothée chuckled. “Go to work. Please. I don’t need your Ranger sweat stinking up my schoolhouse.” 

“Oh, really?” Armie chuckled. He took Timothée into his arms and hugged him tightly, and he said, “Ya didn’t seem to mind this Ranger’s sweat last night.” 

“Armie, ew!” Timothée squealed, twisting out of his lover’s embrace. “Let go of me, you great big brute!” 

“You gotta gimme a kiss,” Armie said. “Then I’ll let you go.” 

“You filthy liar,” Timothée giggled. “If I kiss you, then you’ll want another, and it’ll never end.” 

“So what if that’s true?” Armie said, burying his face in Timothée’s neck and scratching his delicate skin with his stubble. “Just means I like your kisses.” 

“Not the only thing you like,” Timothée scoffed. “One singular kiss, then you go patrol and I go home.” 

“Alright,” Armie said. Timothée turned his head to find Armie behind him, and Armie pressed his large hand to Timothée’s jaw. “Damn it, I love ya so much.” With that, he chastely kissed Timothée’s mouth, still tasting of his morning tea. 

Timothée broke the kiss slowly, almost regretfully, and he whispered, “You had better be safe. You oughta come home to me so that we can continue… This.” He kissed Armie again, slower this time. He turned and clutched Armie’s shoulders, and Armie wrapped his firm arms around his waist. “I love you so much, Armie.” 

“What happened to one kiss?” Armie asked. 

“Screw your one kiss,” Timothée smiled. He parted from his lover and picked up his newspaper, and he rolled it up and swatted it at Armie’s behind. “Now, go on, get. Go to your patrol.” 

“Yes, sir,” Armie laughed. “I love it when ya get feisty, darlin’.” 

“Get!” Timothée exclaimed. “I’ll meet you at home.” 

Armie pulled Timothée to him once more and kissed him deeply, pushing him up against the small wooden desk that Timothée called his own. A piece of chalk clattered off the desk and snapped against the wooden floor, and Timothée broke the kiss with a gasp. “Armie,” he whispered. “Please. Go.” 

“I love ya, darlin’,” Armie whispered. His blue eyes were completely earnest as he admired Timothée, and Timothée pressed his fair hand to Armie’s shadowed jaw. 

Timothée swallowed thickly, and he moved out from between Armie and the desk. “I love you too,” he mumbled. “Please go. I really can’t stand to look at you, knowing it may be—“

“Don’t you say it,” Armie said firmly, grasping Timothée’s belt. “Don’t say it.” He turned Timothée to face him, and he kissed his forehead, and he added, “The Comanche have a sayin’, ya know. They say that, if someone says something, they speak the option to the universe. If you even dare t’say that I… That might give the universe a few ideas we don’t need. Alright?” 

Timothée sniffled and nodded, and he clumsily pawed at his face. His tears were falling down his cheeks and clinging to his eyelashes, and Armie bit his bottom lip. “C’mere, Tim, look’it,” he said softly and opened his dark suit jacket to reveal the gleaming silver badge he had pinned to his waistcoat. He carefully unpinned it and pressed it into Timothée’s hand, and he closed his fingers around it. 

“No,” Timothée croaked. “I can’t, Arms, this badge means everything to you.” 

“You mean everythang to me,” Armie said softly. “That badge ain’t nothing but some steel. I want ya to have it.” 

Timothée pressed his fist to his chest, just above his heart, and he wept softly. “You bastard,” he whispered and hugged Armie tightly. Armie’s form hand graced his back and embraced him harder than ever before, and Armie sniffled gently. Timothée knew Armie inside and out, and he wasn’t one to cry. “You have to come home. Alright? Please. Come home to me.”

###### 

There was a solid thud downstairs, and Timothée bolted up in bed. The sky was pitch dark, the moon barely visible through thick rain clouds, and Timothée pulled the knitted blanket up to his chin. Just the wind, he told himself. The fire in the fireplace across the bedroom was cracking low, and Timothée quickly got out of bed. He shivered when his bare feet touched the cold wooden floor, and he made quick work of stoking the fire back to life. Armie liked the room to be warm as he slept, and Timothée always made sure to keep the fire going all night for him. 

Armie had yet to return from his evening post. His dinner sat in the dining room, at his place at the head of the table, a cover of foil keeping it as warm as possible. Timothée had cooked Armie’s favorite, baked chicken with roast potatoes and a sweet lemon pie, but he couldn’t even bring himself to eat it. He needed Armie. 

As Timothée was replacing the fire stoker in its rightful place, the thud sounded again. Wind, Timothée thought again, but he stopped when he heard the creaking downstairs. The creaking always meant a door was opening, since, when the two built the house together, Armie had placed the back door on crooked. The back door had squeaked ever since, but neither found much reason to fix it. The front door was always closed; in Colby, only honored guests used front doors. 

“Armie?” Timothée gasped. He leapt up and grabbed his dressing gown and threw it on haphazardly. It hung off his shoulder as he raced downstairs, nearly skipping the last two to get into the living room. 

Instead of his Armie, he got a face full of a pistol. He squeaked in shock and stumbled back into the wall, and he looked past the gaping maw of the weapon to see a man with greasy hair under a sun-worn hat, a long mustache curling around the corners of his mouth. “Well,” he said in a low drawl. “You that bitch, then, huh?” 

“P-Pardon?” Timothée stuttered. 

“That Ranger man,” the outlaw said. “You his?” 

“I do not belong to anybody, sir,” Timothée said carefully. “If you’re talking about Texas Ranger Hammer, then—“

“Yeah, that’s him,” the man said. “You’re his bitch?” 

“I-I— No!” Timothée said softly, shame filling his face with a red heat. “No, we live together! We are not— I’ve never— He’s not—“ 

“You can save yer stutterin’, boy,” the outlaw told him. “Wheresabout can I find your little Ranger at this time? Upstairs?” 

Timothée shook his head and clenched his eyes closed when he heard the gun cock. 

“Tell me, damn it,” the outlaw huffed firmly. “Or I’ll blow yer little head off and yer Ranger ain’t never gonna see ya again.” 

“H-He went into town,” Timothée said quickly. “He’s out getting cigarettes. Always gets them at the general store across from the courthouse. He-He’s there.” That was the furthest point in the town that Timothée could think of from where Armie was patrolling. Maybe, if Butch Cavendish and his gang left for the other side of town, Timothée could rig up his horse and find Armie and tell him to get out of town. 

“Good boy,” Butch said. “Hey! One’a y’all go to the store and find the Ranger for me! I think I’m gonna stay here. I fancy myself a home-cooked meal.” 

Timothée kept his eyes trained on the gang members that left the house, and they slammed the door shut so hard that the glass pane rattled in its frame. “Y-You’re not…” Timothée whispered, but stopped when Butch pressed the cold gun into his forehead. 

“Nah, I ain’t goin’ with them,” Butch said. “I’ll have ‘em bring your little boyfriend here and make ya watch as I kill him.” 

“What do you want from me?” Timothée gasped. “I-I’ll give you anything. Please don’t hurt Armie.” 

“I’ll have’ta think on yer offer there,” Butch said. “But right now, that meal in the dining room was lookin’ awful tasty. Join me for dinner, won’t ya?” 

The gun was pressed into Timothée’s back, and he bit his cheek as he led Butch into the room. He lit the candle at the center of the table and sat down shakily, and he mumbled, “W-Would you care for a drink?” 

“There’s that southern hospitality I’ve heard ‘bout,” Butch said. “I didn’t know that you Yanks were capable of that.” 

Timothée clenched his teeth together. “What would you like?” He asked cordially. “We have sweet tea or lemonade, or water out back.” 

“The Ranger doesn’t have no drink with his dinner?” Butch asked. 

Timothée shook his head, his long curls hitting his cheeks. “No,” he said. “He-He likes to keep a clear mind. He is always prepared for work, even if it is unexpected.” 

“Well, shit,” Butch chuckled and put his boots up on the table, his spurs jingling with his actions. “Let’s see what’s for dinner, huh?” He pulled the foil off of the top and grinned down at the food, and Timothée moved slowly to fix his dressing gown. “If ya make one more move, I’ll blow you to smithereens,” Butch said easily, positioning his hand with the gun to point at Timothée. Timothée put his hand down in lap, but he didn’t let Butch’s glance go unnoticed. In that moment, Timothée knew what Butch would want from him to keep Armie alive. 

“D’ya make this yerself, darlin’?” Butch asked, taking a bite of the chicken leg. The name sent a shiver up Timothée’s spine, and he nodded quickly. 

“I did,” he said. “It’s, uh… It’s his favorite.” 

“He’s sure missin’ out,” Butch said. “Now, if he’s just gone to the store for cigarettes, why would his dinner be sittin’ untouched here?” 

Timothée’s heart nearly stopped beating at that moment. “He wasn’t hungry when he got home,” Timothée whispered. He remembered that, when he and Armie first met, that Armie had told him that his shyness and big eyes could get him whatever he wanted, and Timothée cleared his throat. “He, umm… Wanted something else, I guess.” 

“Somethin’ else, huh?” Butch repeated with a full mouth. “What’s this somethin’ else?” 

“I-I…” Timothée began, and he saw Butch’s hand with the gun slip off the table. He leaned forward, bringing his feet down to the floor, and Timothée swallowed nervously. He hoped his plan worked, or he would quickly be shot dead. “Umm, as a hardworking man, Armie wants… Umm, certain things. And I’m certainly not one to-to tell him no. And he always smokes cigarettes afterwards, and he smoked his last few earlier.” 

“Ya ain’t gotta tip-toe ‘round it,” Butch chuckled. “Just say it.” 

“I-I really don’t—“ Timothée began with fake sheepishness, and Butch trained the gun on him again. Timothée let out a soft breath, and he whispered, “We made love when he got home from his shift.” 

Butch nodded slowly, and he gestured with his gun. “Get over here,” he said, and Timothée’s spine grew rigid. 

“No,” he whispered. “I will not let you take my integrity for the fun of the chase. Shoot me if you will, but I reserved my whole self for the man I choose to marry.” 

“An honorable bitch,” Butch mumbled through his food. “Get yer ass over here now, or I will shoot.” 

“Then, by all means,” Timothée said defiantly, lifting his chin. “Shoot me, kill me. Whatever it takes to keep Armie safe.” 

Butch chuckled lowly. “I’ll be happy to oblige you, darlin’.”

###### 

Pip snuffled as Armie patted his side. “Good boy,” Armie whispered to his horse. “When we get home, you’re gonna get some fresh water. Maybe a suga’ cube or two if ya promise not to tell Timmy.” 

Armie straightened up and looked around at the sky. It was dark and covered in clouds, and he could feel a cool breeze. He imagined that Timothée was already asleep in bed, and Armie saw himself undressing down to his skin and slipping into bed next to Timothée. He knew that Timothée, even in his sleep, would seek out Armie’s warmth, and just the thought of Timothée’s supple skin pressing into him made Armie click his tongue to make Pip fall into a canter. He imagined pushing Timothée’s wild curls aside and kissing his neck, and he knew the exact sound that Timothée would make: a high keen in the back of his throat. Timothée was such a gracious and flexible lover, and Armie could imagine spending the rest of his days with him. Armie knew that, realistically, neither of them would live to see the day that they could get married, but he intended to treat Timothée as his husband all the same. 

Armie spotted the house in the distance, and he could practically feel Timothée against him already. He knew that his lover undoubtedly had put his dinner out for him whenever he got home, but that would have to wait. He made sure to keep Pip quiet as they entered the small barn, and he gave a gentle pat to Timothée’s horse, lovingly named Dreamer. Pip and Dreamer got along well, even electing to sleep next to each other sometimes; it seems that their horses were as in love as they were. Just as Armie was finishing hauling water to their troughs, he heard a loud thud from the house. The barn was a distance from the house, so any sound made had to be significant. 

Armie abandoned his job and went straight to the back, and he nearly shouted for Timothée before he noticed that the screen door to the back was cracked open. It was a pet peeve of Timothée’s when the screen door didn’t fully close; he hit Armie with some baking utensils multiple times for keeping the door open and “practically inviting critters in!”. He knew something was wrong. His hand went to his gun in his holster on his waist, and he carefully entered the house. The door creaked as normal, and Armie stopped to listen for something. There were small sounds coming from the dining room, almost as if someone were in there fussing around with table settings, and Armie took his hand off of his gun. Timothée had waited up for him. 

“Didn’t I tell ya to get some sleep?” Armie chuckled as he rounded his way into the dining room, and he found no sign of anybody in there. There was a half-empty plate at his place, his chair and Timothée’s pushed back, but not a soul was in the room. “Tim? Darlin’, I know I heard ya.” 

Several things happened at once, and Armie didn’t process any of them until he was laying flat on the floor. First, there was a gunshot right by his ear, almost as deafening as a cannon blow, then a terrified scream from behind him. There was a stinging pain in his back that bloomed into excruciating pain by the time he was on the floor, and his vision and hearing faltered for a moment until he felt warmth around him. When he could finally see again, he saw a tear-stained Timothée above him, sobbing and dripping tears onto him. He had several bruises on his face, his nose covered with dried blood, and his eye already swelling to a deep purple. “Hey, hey, calm down now,” Timothée whispered, his voice shaking as violently as possible. Armie could barely make out his words. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise, everything will be okay.” 

There was another, more dull pain in Armie’s ribs, and Timothée sobbed loudly as Armie was forced out of his lap. “Leave him alone!” Timothée screamed and lunged forward to hold Armie once more, but Armie watched a solid boot dig itself into Timothée’s stomach, and the young man fell backwards in a fit of gagging and coughing. “Stop hurting him, he didn’t do anything wrong!” 

Armie felt the hard heel of the boot press against his throat, and his vision finally focused to see the very man he had been on patrol for. “Well, lookie here!” Butch whistled. “I caught me a Ranger!” 

“Please, stop!” Timothée sobbed, but Butch trained the gun on him. Timothée quieted down to a few hiccups and sobs, and Butch leaned down to face Armie better. 

“Ya know the others are all dead,” Butch said. “Killed ‘em all myself. I’ve just got you left and then I’ll the goddamn king of Texas. And I think I know who my queen’s gonna be.” 

Timothée cried into his hands, and Armie saw black blood seeping into the grooves of the wooden floor. His blood. He was shot in the back and was now bleeding to death in his own dining room. 

“Please,” Timothée whimpered. “If you’re not gonna let him go, let me—“ He hiccuped, and he said, “Let me say goodbye.” 

“A little romantic reunion, huh?” Butch mumbled. “Ya ain’t gettin’ none of that. Life ain’t happy, bitch. It’s ‘bout time ya learned that, and you get a front-row seat to that lesson. Hey, yer a teacher, right? Yer students in the first row always want the best view, huh?” 

Timothée shook his head quickly. “I know there’s some goodness in you,” he whispered. “Armie promised to spend the rest of his life in my arms. Please, let him have that. Then, I’ll… I’ll do whatever you want! Please, let me say goodbye to him!” 

The silence was tense and awful, but Butch removed his boot from Armie’s throat. “Ya get one minute,” Butch said. “If he ain’t dead by then, yer just gonna have to let that goodbye be premature.” 

Timothée quickly crawled to Armie, and he cradled his head to his chest. “Arms,” he whispered in his ear. “Do you hear me, sweetheart? I know it hurts right now, but it’ll be over soon. I’ll be right here until it’s all over. I love you so much. Do you understand me? I took a beating for you. I would switch places with you if I could; there’s no hesitation. You’re by far the bravest man I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. It has been my-my honor to be yours. I’m right here. Just close your eyes and you’ll go to sleep, and everything will be fine and nothing will hurt. I’ll see you soon, I expect.” 

Armie’s hand clumsily moved to encase Timothée’s cheek, and Timothée nuzzled his face into Armie’s palm. “Don’t cry,” Armie said, his voice cracking. “Hey. I’ll see ya again soon.” 

Timothée sniffled, and he softly kissed Armie’s forehead. “I love you,” Timothée whispered. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

Timothée felt Armie fall slack against him, and he swore that his heart stopped in time with Armie’s. Timothée was shaking so hard that he wasn’t sure he could ever move again, and he cried into Armie’s unmoving chest. His heart was still, his lungs were still; there was absolutely no life left in him. Timothée gave a scream of anguish and clutched Armie’s body as tightly as he could, and he mumbled, “Go ahead and kill me, please.” 

“Aw, but yer so pretty when you cry,” Butch said, and he took a fistful of Timothée’s hair and yanked him up and away from the body. “C’mon now. We got business to attend to.”


End file.
